I went over to see dad after a workout and a short.  Angel helped me get him into his wheelchair so we could push him outside to sit in the shade in the backyard.  This is where we found Gloria with curlers in her hair.

She loves to talk and tell stories about her life, and I love to listen.

Today we talked about her trip to The Big Island, in Hawaii, after I told her about mine.

The conversation started because my dad was wearing his Hawaii shirt I got him.

She talked about her cruise there years ago, and that the Mormon church has a "show" they sponsor (or put on?) there.  Fire dancers, and a man made volcano that explodes at the end with "lava".

She also talked about going to Playa Del Carmen, and how she saw a boy with no arms doing paintings.  He used his feet to paint them.  She paid him $50 per piece.  She bought 3.  He was only charging $10.

She got another cruise passenger to pay $30 instead of $10.

The boy tried to give Gloria a free piece, but she told him to sell it and just remember that it was from Gloria, for his college dream.

A good visit.

I did interact with dad and had him laughing a few times with our old Glute jokes, "weird guy" jokes, and Harold Powell imitations.

He sits with his head down, it looks like he's sleeping.  But he'll always open his eyes and look at you when prompted.

Not sure if he knows who I am all the time, but once in awhile, maybe.

In this old photo, circa 1979/1980, you an see me (possibly picking my nose... lovely!), my sister, and my cousin.

I think we are at Great America in Santa Clara, California.

Days of innocence, which is not a rare thing for young children with reasonably good families.

Sure we had our troubles... our spoiled tirades... our anxieties.  But life was good.  We were cared for.

We were taken on rides, given treats, and love.

The best part of this picture is my grandfather, Grandpa Malloway, standing in the distance, keeping watchful eye on us with a smile.

He passed away in 1990 in his late 60's I believe.

WWII veteran, and "gruff grandpa" with a smile and a wink.

He taught me to shoot skeet, hit targets, and load powder and shot into used shotgun shells to make our own ammunition.

He'd jokingly hold his fist up at me and say, in his gruff way, "Eggertsen, one of these days... right in the chops." as he'd slowly shake his fist.

He was an entrepreneur for life, owing and operating a grocery store back in the day, and then a liquor store which he eventually passed on/sold to my uncle(s).

Each day he'd come home from the store, he'd have rolls of life savers in hand to give us.

And he'd store extra inventory of sodas in his garage, stacked up so high!  We'd climb around and play on them for hours in the mysterious, dankly lit garage.

A great grandpa.  He loved us.  We loved him.  Still do.  He was gone too soon.  Fond memories.

It was fairly warm, as I remember it.

We set off, after waiting for Jen to go to the bathroom in the parking lot, up to the trail with Walt leading the charge as always.

He just insists on being FIRST.  Until he looks back and realizes there are laggers.

Then he insists and waiting for everyone to catch up.

This is how Walt operates.

It was a good 2 hour hike, and the views of Ventura are always awesome when you're in the hills.

I love these girls, all 3 of them, and little Walty.

These are moments I will always miss when time gets especially brutal.  As it has been known to do.

Just have to suck it all in, and keep a log of it.

Hence, this secret blog.

Yes, Universe, I was here.

We did this, and I loved it.

Would it still matter in the annals of time should I not digitally record it?  Thousands of years from now when this speck of dust in time has long been forgotten by all souls.  Our identities lost in history, would this matter?  Would it have any effect,,. on anything?  Would it still have any meaning?

I can't be sure.  So I post. Maybe someone 1,000 years in the future will stumble upon this and feel something for it.  Then it will matter once more....